


Crushed and Pulverized

by Autor_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub, Dominant John, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, I've never written watersports before wow, Jim is super depressed, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Watersports, johniarty, shocking tags I know, so basically just canon Jim, submissive jim, they argue and then they get kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autor_Moriarty/pseuds/Autor_Moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is in another one of his self-destructive moods, but this time his negligence actually puts John in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushed and Pulverized

Three straight days of working and Jim was so close to being finished. He hadn't dared sleep, needing to keep the entire web of information that he'd constructed in his brain fresh, and too busy juggling several different cases at once to even entertain the possibility of stopping now. As soon as they were all set up then he could sit back and let them run on their own, but until then, he had to work.

Not that Jim would have it any other way. If he didn't enjoy this constant flood of stimulation he wouldn't bother taking so many different commissions on at once. It was the planning that made it worth it anyway. He loved going until he was at his very limit, it was reassuring to at last find the boundaries to his mind's power after years of searching.

It just took three days, twenty pots of coffee, twelve donuts, a laptop with a good fan, great WiFi, and no distractions of the non-work variety. Like delivery people or detectives. The sort of distractions that normally came when John was around.

He must have been on a case. A little rude, not checking in after the favor Jim had requested, but what could you do? Jim couldn't stop to think about it now, not with how urgent everything he was dealing with was. He hadn't even taken a bathroom break in who knew how long, he certainly hadn't showered, he was wearing sweatpants and his usual stubble had filled out quite a bit for fuck's sake.

Jim kept typing, switching windows, looking things up, relaying information. It was nearly four in the morning when the front door clicked open. Jim didn't look up, mind racing.

John didn't speak, marching past where Jim was huddled in his armchair and straight into the kitchen. Jim completely missed the glower John gave him.

John went through the cupboards for something to eat, making as much noise as he could by slamming doors and knocking things over. The sound of typing from the other room didn't falter a moment. Fucking bastard. Complete fucking bastard.

He hated it when Jim did this, but this time was so much worse. At least normally he was just self-destructive, but it was rare for his negligence to extend so far as to actually hurt John. Then for John to come home to find that Jim didn't even give a shit about what he'd done, it was too much.

"I'm home." John said, coming out of the kitchen and glaring at Jim.

"Hm." Jim's eyes were locked on the screen and he didn't say much more for several long moments, though when he did speak it had no inflection, "You. Good case?"

"I haven't been on a case." John said coldly.

"Oh." Jim just sat there.

"James."

"... It's Jim actually." He said it like he didn't even know who was with him.

John growled and strode across the room, grabbing the laptop away and lifting it high above his head like he was going to smash it on the floor. Jim let out a screech, not even angry, just distraught as he reached for it, "Please! I need it! You're going to ruin everything!"

"This isn't important! This doesn't matter! What matters is the people you care about, but obviously you don't give a fuck about me, do you?"

Only now did Jim seen to recognize who it was, "John! John, please. Please, I... I need it, I'm... I'm so close to finishing everything, I can't... I can't redo it all, please..."

John laughed cruelly, "You can't redo it? Of course you can! You always can! It's fun for you, it's a game. You'd go back to this and actually enjoy it."

When Jim's laboured breathing turned to desperate sobs, John remained skeptical.

"J-John. Please. Please, my head hurts so badly. I need to finish it soon or it's going to kill me, I'm going to die of it."

This wasn't the first time Jim had spoken like this, he regularly referenced being killed by this... something. Either boredom or his own mind. Sometimes he talked about it like his consciousness was being rejected by his body, others as if he was just planning on committing suicide.

Even after years of knowing Sherlock, John had not been prepared for this.

"It won't kill you. Nothing is going to kill you if you just set the computer down and go to sleep. But I certainly will if you try to dismiss me again. Do you want to know where I've been?"

Jim had both hands clasped to his temples, squeezing violently as if he was attempting to crush his own skull, or just to hold it together, but he nodded feebly, eyes wet, "Just don't drop it. Please don't drop it."

"You care more about your work than you care about me." John said sullenly, setting the laptop down on the coffee table, "Christ, Jim. What's wrong with you?"

Jim stared at John, eyes taking on a dark edge, "You're supposed to be the one that doesn't say that. Don't you treat me like this, you know e-exactly what you signed up for."

"That's rich, I'm the bastard when you're the one that sent me on a suicide mission and got me shot." John lifted up his shirt, showing off the bandage covering the wound in his side.

"Just... Just one moment. Please, I'll talk to you about it in a moment." Jim knelt and did what he could to save his work with one hand, the other still trying to hold his head together despite the splitting pain throbbing through it. He needed that moment where everything came together seamlessly and all his work paid off for any relief to come, as it was... He really did feel like he was going to die. His anxiety was through the roof and insisting that everything would come crashing down as soon as he looked away from the computer, his depression was chanting that this one failure would destroy his entire life, he was just itching to find a gun to release himself from the endless cycle but still...

Jim still hung on for the high. He still hung on for admiration and respect of the few people that managed to grasp the full scale and complexity of his operation. And he still hung on for John. Even though he was half convinced that he was just dragging him into hell with him and that John would actually be relieved on the day he found Jim's head blasted open, because then he wouldn't have to deal with the mania anymore. Because part of him held out hope that it was real when John said that he loved him.

John sighed and Jim gritted his teeth, trying to hurry up, "Sorry. Sorry, I... It's so complicated, I'm so sorry." He was on his knees, quietly sobbing, giving up the one thing that would keep him from killing himself and still John was acting like he was a monster. How would he have known about John being shot?

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Jim stood and nodded at John, breathing heavily, "What happened?"

"That little favor you asked of me? Helping out with some security? The deal went bad and we were seriously outgunned and outnumbered. Two people died. I went to the hospital. And when I call your phone, I just get your fucking voicemail! I nearly died because of you and you didn't even visit me or apologize or anything!" John shouted, "This thing that you do, it's fine if you want to ruin your own life with it, but when you show me how little you actually value me, that's where I draw the line."

Jim was so numb from the static his mind was generating to try and keep from breaking down, but somewhere deep inside he felt sick with guilt. If John had died, there was no way he'd be able to keep going. It stole his breath away to think about, this sudden gaping hole in his chest. If they'd called and John had turned out to be dying and he'd missed the chance to say goodbye, that would be it. There was no point.

And John would have died thinking Jim didn't care enough to tear himself away from work.

Jim blinked hard, eyes tearing up, "I'm sorry. Johnny, oh god... I'm so sorry, but I... I don't know any other way to be. I'll die if I don't work, I'll die if I lose you, I'm stuck. I won't ask you to work for me anymore."

"I could still be killed while on a case." John pointed out, trying to figure out if Jim's tears were genuine.

"I'll assign you a security team."

"Things happen, Jim. I just need you to be here in the present." John sighed, "I know you're busy, but you abandoned me and I hated feeling like you could care less... Do you really love your work that much more than me?"

Jim shook his head, trying not to feel sick, "I don't love it. I just need it. You know there's something wrong with me John, I can't keep going if I'm not keeping my mind satisfied. It'll kill me. My head aches so much, I start hating myself and wishing I was dead and thinking that the world is going to come crashing down around me if I screw up just a little. I love you but I'm... I'm me. I'm always going to be stuck like this. And if you really think that it's just going to get you killed, or that I don't care because I'm sick and coping in the only way I know how, I think you're looking for someone else."

They stared at one another for a long time, not speaking. John, trying to figure out if Jim's destructive lifestyle was too much for him to handle. Jim, trying to rationalize a world where John left and he managed to keep going.

"I don't like seeing you carrying on like this. It's never directly hurt me before, so I think I thought that's where my anger came from, but it's just been building up. I'm scared for you. I think you're going down a dangerous path and that sooner or later, you're going to end up killing yourself no matter what I do. I'm scared. I don't like facing enemies I can't see, I don't like feeling powerless. But there isn't much I can do."

Jim swallowed hard, bracing for John to deliver those final words.

"If I got you something for anxiety and depression, would you try it? I know you took them before and they didn't work, but if you sampled a few different drugs, we might be able to help you get better."

"You're not leaving?"

"James." John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "No."

Jim looked down, breathing becoming more even, "Okay. Okay then, that's good. If you think it'll work, I'll take whatever you want. But I don't want them from just anybody, I want them from you. And if you have to get them from someone else, they need to be ones you approve of. I don't trust anyone else."

John nodded and gestured at Jim's laptop, "Fine. I'm sorry that I scared you by threatening to break your computer, I know... I know you need your work, but when you're so distracted that I might die and you don't do anything... I don't know, maybe I just think it's the only way to get through to you."

Jim chewed his lip, taking a few moments to organize his thoughts, "I... I failed you. I put you in danger and then I didn't come through for you when it backfired. I'm going to try, John. I'm not normal but that doesn't mean I don't want to have a good relationship, at least one that works for us."

John smiled faintly, "Thank you... Go ahead and get back to your work, I don't want to deprive you."

"Will you stay out here with me?"

"I'll... I'll find something to eat and I'll sit out here. But please try to get this wrapped up quickly, you look terrible, like you really need help."

Jim sat down and got to work obediently, rushing to finish everything he'd been working on. He was shaking from all the excitement, John's threats of destroying his laptop and then the possibility of losing him, but somehow he managed to get through it all in a little over twenty minutes.

The rush was incredible. Tying up all the loose ends and finally being able to relax once more was one of the best feelings in the world. Jim sighed and shut his computer down.

"Ready?" John asked, pulling himself up.

"Yes." Jim smiled thinly and stood, tugging at his shirt.

"Don't even think about coming to bed without a shower." John said, laughing as he began to head for their room.

Jim hurried after John, catching his arm so he could pull him back for a kiss, but John was still on edge and he spun around, grabbing Jim and shoving him up against the wall, hands pinning his wrists, his leg pressed between Jim's thighs, sharp against his groin.

Jim made a little squeaking noise and squirmed, suddenly aware of just how urgently he had to use the toilet, eyes fluttering shut, "Johnny... Careful, I need to use the toilet."

John realized his mistake and considered loosening his hold on Jim, but another thought occurred and he pressed his knee in a little more harshly.

Jim whined and tried to squeeze his legs together, arms tugging at the hold, "John, stop teasing, I've been holding it all day."

"I'm still kind of upset you know. I don't see why I shouldn't have a chance to punish you." John murmured, watching the way Jim struggled half-heartedly, "You didn't even say hello when I came in."

"I was busy, fuck John, it's not very dignified." Jim whined, practically grinding against John's leg to fight back his need.

"I want the world's most feared criminal to suck me off for permission to use the toilet."

"I hate you." Jim muttered without any real force, violently biting his lip when John switched to holding both of his wrists with just one hand and he used the other to roughly prod at his distended bladder, "Fuck! Fuck you!"

"Suck me and I'll let you go." John let his leg pull away slightly and Jim sank to his knees, hips writhing as he glared up at John.

With some reluctance Jim leaned in and used his teeth to open up John's trousers, then pushed his underwear down with his nose and face, feeling thoroughly humiliated.

John held Jim's wrists tighter at the first hint of his tongue and he ignored the dangerous look in favor of appreciating how sloppily and eager he was when motivated. Jim wrapped his lips tight around John and got to work, not bothering with teasing or making it look pretty, just trying his hardest to get John off as fast as possible.

John filled out and lifted inside of Jim's mouth far too slowly for his liking. Even with his throat swallowing arrived the tip of John's dick, John seemed determined to mess around, thrusting into Jim's mouth and praising him for having such a hot little mouth.

Jim focused all his energy and took everything, even when John's foot prodded his side and nearly made him lose control, just wanting to finish him off quickly. He was so relieved when John began to tense familiarly and Jim bobbed his head with even more enthusiasm, beaming up at John.

John slammed in deep and spilled down Jim's throat, crying his name loudly. Jim was so fucking gorgeous when he was furious and looked about ready to bite somebody, especially with his wicked eyes, and if he was this obedient every time he was on the edge off pissing himself John couldn't imagine not trying it again at least one more time.

John eased out and Jim gazed up at him, his previous anger now replaced with a lovely pleading expression, "John... Please let me go, I promise I'll be good from now on."

John kept his hands tight on Jim's wrists and slid his foot up to his groin, pressing it against his half-hard prick, hanging heavy with blood between his thighs. Jim gasped and his hips bucked, trying to move away from the touch, but John followed closely, just pushing harder.

Jim hissed in shock as the pleasure lowered his guard and made him spurt a little, quickly managing to stop the stream before it got to be too much. He glared up at John, practically spitting like a cat, "Stop it!"

"Oh dear, did you have a little accident?" John chuckled, grinning at the tiny wet spot on the front of Jim's sweatpants.

"John! Cut it out, I can't hold on like this!"

John's foot continued to stroke Jim's cock through the fabric, now clearly straining. Jim whimpered, feeling precome and a little more piss well up and drip down his shaft, and he lowered his head in shame, "Johnny... I'm sorry I hurt you..."

John sank to his knees as well, keeping Jim's wrists locked together as he used his free hand to cup Jim firmly. Jim moaned, grinding into John's hand, face burning red, "I'll try to be more careful, I promise... I want to be good to you."

"I know you do." John leaned down and placed a kiss on the tip of Jim's cock, "You're a good boy."

Jim suddenly lost all control, keening as he pulsed into his underwear, hips still wiggling weakly in an attempt to stop, but it was too late and by the end he was limp with relief and gasping wildly for breath. His cock was still hard, desperate to come as well, and John gave Jim a harsh kiss on his open mouth, smiling against his lips.

"You're always so much kinkier when you're done working, James. Let's get you into the shower."

"You're washing my clothes, you fiend." Jim giggled softly.


End file.
